


More Than Enough

by xikra1648



Series: Too Many Ideas, Not Enough Notebooks [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: And then he comes back, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Cause you can't be too safe when it comes to warnings, Could be rated Teen, F/M, I just put the warning to be safe, I put the warning up to be safe, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced sex dreams, Kind of up to you wtih that, Major character death only refers to Jason's death, Past Character Death, Possibly Unrequited Love, Pre-written reader character descriptions, Rating to be on the safe side, Romance, Sad, Semi-mature themes, Some Characters Just Mentioned, We all know jason dies, because of relation to existing characters in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 23:07:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21126755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xikra1648/pseuds/xikra1648
Summary: When your little brother was killed, you didn't want to stick around Gotham anymore.  You needed to get out and try to move on, try to have a life, and the only place you could go was Bludhaven - to Dick, your best friend.  He'd never turn you away when you needed help, especially since it was so hard for you to ask in the first place.That's just not what happens when a guy is so head-over-heels for a girl he's caught in a never-ending series of somersaults.





	More Than Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This could be a one-shot, or it could be a two/multi-shot. I don’t know yet, hence it’s presence in my series of DC stuff I don’t know what to do with. Since I was mid Arkham Knight replay when I came up with the idea, this could easily be considered an Arkham-verse fic, but it would fit best with the comics even though it can fit pretty much anywhere.
> 
> Also, about the whole ‘Dick almost killing Joker’ thing, in at least one universe that did actually happen. He legit went after Joker, beat the shit out of the clown, then killed the clown only for Batman to show up and give Joker life-saving CPR and be all ‘you would have regretted it.’ Nightwing responded to that with something along the lines of ‘FUCK YOU I DID WHAT I DID AND I’D DO IT AGAIN!!’
> 
> I feel like people forget that Dick has a dark side, and a quick way to that dark side is messing with his family. Like, in ‘Battle For The Cowl’ he was constantly reminding himself to not lose his temper when Jason dressed up as Batman and lied about having killed Tim – who also dressed up as Batman cause Dick was like ‘NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE.’ He literally said he COULDN’T lose his cool, and I feel comfortable saying that the implication is, if he fell for Jason’s lies, he would have started fighting to kill instead of subdue.
> 
> He might be the ‘Prodigal Son’ in the Bat-Fam – a term Damian himself used to describe Dick – but he’s willing to do things that Bruce won’t. He doesn’t want to. He’d rather deal with things non-lethally – but he’s killed before and he’ll do it again. He’s willing to cross those lines because, unlike Bruce who is living in the memory of his parents, Dick is living in the present and for the people he still has in his life. Bruce is willing to sacrifice everything but his own morals to complete the mission while Dick is willing to sacrifice the mission and his morals for the people he cares about.
> 
> I think the best way to sum up what I’m saying is: there’s a reason all the other Robins follow Dick’s lead and waited for him to pick up the cowl during the ‘Battle For The Cowl’ series, and it’s not because he’s the oldest.

# More Than Enough

### Too Many Ideas, Not Enough Notebooks Series

_“Mind if I stay here for a while? Gotham is just…”_

_“Stay as long as you need. The homemade food will be nice for a change.” It was a sorry attempt at trying to bring a smile to a sad girl, but he had to try, even if his tone didn’t match his words._

_“Don’t get used to it, this isn’t a permanent arrangement.” Your heart wasn’t quite in that, but you wanted it to be, so he turned on the charm. It was something that always got a little giggle out of you, even if you were laughing **at** him instead of in the same giddy way most girls did._

_“Then I’ll be sure to treasure your company while I can.”_

********

You’d had your own training, your own skills, but preferred to stay in the background at first, putting your energy into your budding career as a performing aerialist. That was before your brother had been killed, anyway. Lured to the Joker as part of a plan Ra’s Al Ghul put together – the self-proclaimed ‘tactician’ who claimed to know the world better than anyone completely unaware of just how homicidally insane the Joker was. The centuries-old man claiming he didn’t _mean_ for Jason to die, but that meant nothing from the man who led a group called the _League of Assassins._

You’d tried to stay in Gotham after Jason’s funeral, but it wasn’t long before you took off for Bludhaven before Bruce could try to stop you. Before he could try to convince you to stay, tell you that it would be okay like he was trying to convince himself of that. You just hadn’t been able to take it. You couldn’t carry yourself, and Bruce, and worry about Alfred trying to carry the both of you, and Dick – particularly after his attempt to kill the Joker had been thwarted because Batman arrived just at the last second to give Gotham’s nightmare jester life-saving CPR.

You had training, and the reason Jason had the balls to try and steal the Batmobile’s tires was because you’d been…_supplementing_ income by running with Catwoman, and neither the bat nor the oldest of the birds had the slightest idea it was _you_ behind the Catgirl mask until after Jason had been brought into the family of vigilantes. When your only financial concern was yourself, when Jason was taken care of, you left the suit behind. Sure, Batman and his crew knew who you were, but they also knew the shades of gray that paint every corner of Gotham. It wasn’t a city like Metropolis. Things were never easy to define as ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ no matter how Batman tried. It was a place where the line between ‘criminal’ and ‘hero’ was used like a _jump rope._

A jump rope you’d hopped over as soon as Lucis Fox finished making your first _Nightingale_ suit.

It was a comfortable black catsuit, designed for your line of work, padded and reinforced as needed, lightweight and tailored for you and the gear you used in the field, and matched to a black mask that allowed you to filter through different modes of vision. It just didn’t have the jacket you’d worn with your old Catgirl suits, and there was no good way to _add_ one. It clung to you like a second skin, without the luxury of something to hide behind. Something Dick didn’t even notice you did until the first time he saw you in your black and violet suit.

Whenever you could, you hid yourself behind loose hoodies, long sweaters, and oversized t-shirts matched with skinny jeans and leggings under shorts or flowing skirts. Things that would give the appearance of an even hourglass figure, ass apposed to your more pear-shaped figure, with a wider curve of your hips and the thighs and behind to match. It was something he knew was rooted in social expectations, a struggle to meet ridiculous standards set for women, he knew the facts and that the things that made you feel that way were fundamentally _wrong_. That didn’t mean he really understood how it _felt_. He just _couldn’t._

Not when he constantly found himself drawn in by the way your hips swayed, his mind captured by memories of utterly _filthy_ dreams that would make the devil himself blush. Dreams where he used the curve of your hips as leverage to pull you back against him, throwing his head back in the euphoria of the way the soft curve of your rear felt against him and you so perfectly fit his hands. The feel of gripping your ass so tightly the flesh filled and overflowed from his grip. Your legs thrown over his shoulders as he left hickies along the sensitive skin along your inner thighs before he pressed his lips to your heated core. That one mental image that never failed to get him hard to matter where he was, the idea of the marks he’d left on you in his dreams, along your thighs, hips, and the red blush of your ass after a few well-placed smacks – that last thing something you’d admitted to enjoying as the two of you had a tipsy conversation over a bad late-night movie with even worse sex scenes.

The dazing, the dreams, the attraction started a _long_ time ago, back when you were still Catgirl, teasing him with that coy giggle and flicks of the silken ginger hair you’d inherited from your mother. Late nights when you’d be prowling the Crime Alley area and getting into your own share of fights with thugs picking on anyone they thought just _looked_ to be in possession of something they wanted. Nights when he’d finally been allowed to patrol alone, without Batman’s supervision even though Alfred would inevitably make an appearance with late-night sandwiches, and he’d immediately take off to meet up with you. Early mornings sitting on rooftops, watching the sunrise. Cold and rainy late nights getting bad coffee from a 24-hour convenience store and huddling under cover out of sight and high enough to keep an eye on the streets below.

It started with you, as a person, and grew to _include_ something more physical – _carnal_ – years later.

He knew the easy one-word way to define what he was thinking. He knew what he felt, how to label it. He knew. He just…tucked it away in a box with a bunch of other shit he was never going to talk about, and then threw the whole box back into a locked closet deep in the recesses of his mind, hoping to _forget._

Things were…complicated. Jason had been adopted by Bruce, the same man who’d raised Dick and made it clear everything – _everything – _would be in Dick’s hands should anything happen to the _original_ Batman. You, however, had been too old to legally adopt when you and Jason were brought into the family, but that didn’t change the fact that Jason was still your little brother, and Dick’s brother, and it was just _complicated._

It was a good reason. It was a logical reason. It was a reason you wouldn’t argue with too much, if at all. It was a reason you’d accept if…yeah. No. That wasn’t going to happen. He was _Dick Grayson _to you. Your best friend, partner, and idiot pal you couldn’t trust to eat something besides cereal and junk food without you doing the grocery shopping _and_ cooking.

He was _‘friend zoned,’_ sure, and on some level that did hurt. Unrequited love always hurts, but you still cared about him and trusted him implicitly. You had such a hard time trusting anyone – everyone – except three people: Jason, Alfred, and _him_ – Dick. You trusted him, and that thought always cut through the pain and brought a smile to his face.

That, all by itself, was more than enough.


End file.
